


It Gets Better

by mudkipwrites



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Flashbacks, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It Gets Better Project, M/M, Sir That Is My Therapy Lasat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22869526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudkipwrites/pseuds/mudkipwrites
Summary: Kal could never have imagined how good this new life with Zeb would be. Now, he is glad that he is still here.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 12
Kudos: 94





	It Gets Better

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to my fellow survivors of attempted suicide. Like Kal, there is a better life out there for you, too.

\---

_The ice moon of Geonosis is dark and cold._

_Agent Alexsandr Kallus does not have so much as a thin blanket to wrap around his shuddering shoulders. When he leans his chilled back against the rough, stone wall of the cave, he feels the last remaining traces of heat leeched from his body._

_He has never been so miserable in all of his life._

_In his hands, he holds the meteorite that the rebel, Garrezeb Orrelios, has just retrieved from the ice. It casts a small amount of heat and light upon his numb fingers, and he clings to it like a lifeline._

_His breath emits from his lips in thick, foggy clouds. He feels the whiskers upon his upper lip and sideburns beginning to harden from the chill. The wind has rubbed raw his chapped lips and frostburnt cheeks; his tired eyes burn from the frigid exposure. Every one of the bones inside of him aches._

_He is going to die here._

_Agent Kallus wonders if the numbness will take him before the sun again rises. Under the chill of darkness, he has no memory of how light even feels. All he knows now is the deep, endless night of being trapped with his sworn enemy on a desolate world._

_\---_

The evening on Lira San is warm and quiet. 

Kal is wrapped in the warm, fuzzy blanket of his lasat’s arms. When he leans back against the lavender-furred softness of Zeb’s chest, he feels the gentle rumbling of a purr beneath his sleepy inhales and exhales. 

He has never felt so protected in all of his life. 

On his hand, he wears one of the rings that his husband, Zeb, has carved from their meteorite. Although faded in light and warmth over time, it still casts soft glow upon the fingers of the lovers who cling to one another like a lifeline. 

He tastes the rich, exotic tastes of their home world upon each moonlight breath. Traces of the exotic fruits and rich, rain-drenched soil cling to his long hair and whiskers. His lips have been rubbed raw from so many tender and endless kisses; his eyes hang heavily at the sound of chirping birds and night bugs. Every beat of the heart inside of him sings. 

He is truly alive here. 

Kal wonders what he did to deserve this second chance. Beneath the warm moonlight of Lira San, next to the sleeping form of his lover, he is far from the darkness that had once threatened to consume him. All he knows now is that he is glad that he didn’t give up. 

\---

_Agent Kallus wakes in his bunk feeling sore and stiff._

_The sheets of his Imperial-grade bed are starchy and rough, with only himself to warm up the sheets. When he opens his eyes, the cool, uninviting metal of the durasteel ceiling reflects his gaze. He can see his own self-hate echoed back to him from those shadowed, haunted eyes, and he closes them for a moment to block out the feeling._

_It will be another long day on board the Chimera. Nothing awaits him except mindless drills, empty corridors, and the stiff, proper ‘hello’ of officers in-passing._

_Somehow, life is even more bleak now that he has returned from his time on the ice moon with Garrazeb Orrelios; he feels more lost, isolated and forgotten now than he ever has before. The aching emptiness that he’d felt to gnaw at him upon his arrival on base has followed him here: into his bed, in the fresher-- everywhere that he goes--until his existence is one, drawn-out, static hum of a nightmare._

_On days like this, Agent Kallus wonders how long he can go without speaking. He wonders what would happen if he just sits here in silence for so long that he simply drifts off into dark space, never to wake up again. If he does not report in tomorrow for work, will anyone notice? If he does not finish his job, will they simply hire someone else to complete it and move on with their daily, professional lives?_

_Perhaps. one day, they will find his silent, still form laid upon this bed; and they will dispose of him in the trash compactor among the other rubbish._

_\---_

Kal wakes in his bunk feeling loose and refreshed. 

The sheets of his bed are already damp from humidity, and are covered with a sparse layer of fine, fuzzy fur. When he opens his eyes, the luminous, grass-green eyes of his husband reflect love back at him. He can see his own joy echoed in the face of the man laying next to him; and he closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling. 

It will be another astonishing day upon Lira San. So much awaits him with rebellion training, playing, and the sweet, chirping growl of his pouncing lasat kits. _(Oh look, there’s one of them now; jumping and biting at his partner’s toes beneath the bedspread!)_ Somehow, life is even better than when he had first been reunited with Zeb; he feels more loved, supported and known now than he ever has before. The aching loveliness that he’d felt blooming within him upon their arrival on planet has followed him here: into his bed, into the fresher, into his office--everywhere that he goes!--until his existence blurs together into one, endless chord of resurrection. 

On days like this, Kal wonders about all the stories he will tell. He wonders what will happen when he and Zeb have grown old and gray, so filled with tales of adventure that they can delight their grandchildren for days. Will his loved ones say kind things about him when he’s finally gone? He knows that the Rebellion will carry its mission on, even after his loved ones can no longer see him. He hopes, on that day, he will feel completed; and he thinks that he will, because he knows Zeb. He has been deemed worthy of love, and has given his love in return. 

Perhaps, one day, his grave will be adorned with flowers; a fragile reminder to his loved ones how precious and valued their lives truly are. 

\---

_The deck of the gunship rushes up to meet him._

_Agent Kallus’ breath comes in painful spurts, and his vision spots and swims before his eyes._ Have the floors always been red? Or is it just the blood dripping from my face? _Of all the terrible days, this one may be the worst. He has just discovered that his work as Fulcrum is all for nothing. Grand Admiral Thrawn has unmasked him; the Rebels are being bombarded with laserfire; and his best and only friend, Garazeb, is out there, dying._

_And there is nothing that he can do about it._

_Agent Kallus knows this. He knows it because he has been hauled up to the command deck just to watch the ships and the planets burn._ _So, when a heavy impact of a boot collides with his head, he hardly moves to resist it._ What is the point? _The pain consumes him. There is so little that he can do in this moment, and every once of his fighting spirit is gone._

_Gone--like the only man he ever loved._

_\---_

The sandy, wet earth rushes up to meet him.

Kal’s breath heaves against his chest as sweat pours down his brow, dripping into his eyes. _Have I always been this out of shape? Or is he just that good at learning my tactics?_ Of all of his favorite things, this one might be the very best. He has spent the whole morning sparring with his perfect equal, and the exhilaration of their battle-training does everything to lift his spirits. Even when he was Fulcrum, Kal had not enjoyed using his talent so much; now, he is able to pit the best of his mind and body against Zeb, and it makes every bit of himself feel alive. 

There is not much he can do in this situation; Kal knows this. He has spent years watching his husband’s powerful fighting style, and he knows that his strength and endurance are greatly outmatched.

However, the challenge of it makes his heart burn, and he watches carefully for any kind of opportune opening. When the heavy impact of Zeb’s body collides against his staff, he hardly moves to resist it. _This is the moment!_ Competition consumes him, and he sweeps one foot out and under his lover. Every nerve of fighting spirit crackles as Zeb is unfooted, topping over and into the sand. 

Here--the only man he’s ever loved.

Zeb laughs, pulling Kal down against his thick, muscular chest. "Oh, so you _have_ been practicing!" The lasat grins, digging his hands playfully into Kal's scalp. "Taught you that move last week...and _now,_ you're trying to spring it back on _me?!"_ He laughs even harder as Kal gives a futile wriggle against his powerful hands. "Where's the gratitude, Kal? Is _this_ how you thank me for being your tutor?" 

Kal manages to finally break free of Zeb's hands. However, he uses this freedom only to push the bowrifles away--and _then,_ to resume his hold upon his husband's furry chest. " _Tutor?!"_ he blusters, making Zeb laugh again. "I am appalled! _Offended!_ When the First Order hears about this impertinence..."

Zeb silences him with a long, drawn-out kiss.

"A-as you were, soldier." he finishes. 

Sometimes, he cannot even believe that he is really here: in a star cluster that he never knew existed; with a man that he never knew could be so dear; living a life that he never knew that he wanted. Some days, the torture and isolation of the Empire seems so far away; other days, it sneaks in and wakes him at night, reminding him of all that he has survived. Something of this must have shown on his face, because Zeb raises one clawed, purple paw to caress his face. He strokes his fingers through Kal's long and golden-grey hair, palm coming to rest underneath his furred jaw. 

"...You doing okay?" Zeb asks. 

Kal sighs and closes his eyes. So much has _changed_ since he joined the Rebellion--since he became Fulcrum--since he started a new life with Zeb on Lira San. And each and every choice had once been so new, so unprecedented, so _dangerous._ Each one had, ultimately, unfolded into something _good;_ and the cold, lonely agent that once was Agent Alexsandr Kallus has been transformed into _Kal._ When he looks back upon his old life, there does not seem to be much left anymore. 

"I don't know." Kal replies. He rests his head upon Zeb's warm chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Sometimes, it all seems so far away...The Empire, I mean." 

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm listening." 

"There are days when it feels like another lifetime. Days when I think I never even went through that trauma or torture--like it's someone elses' life, and I'm watching it all from the outside." 

Zeb makes a soft humming noise of confirmation. He runs his hand through Kal's sweaty hair once again. 

"Other days, it feels like I'm still... _t_ _rapped_ there. Like I'm about to be attacked at any minute or something. I swear that I'm _fine,_ but then, by the next moment, something else happens that _hijacks_ my brain. And it makes me feel _crazy._ I know things are good, and that I'm alright; but it sends my nerves into overdrive. I blackout, I panic; I can't sleep; I can't _dream_. It's just... _nightmares_." 

The soft, familiar tickle of Zeb's pointed fingers beneath his chin makes him pause and relax for a moment. He stays there for a while, basking in the warmth and comfort of his best friend. Kal knows that this is complex. He knows that even the most sincere kindness from his lover cannot permanently keep away what his trauma has stolen. And yet, he is grateful; for these minutes, these hours. 

When his heart has slowed down and settled into Zeb's pace, he asks him: "Kal...are you wanting for me to just listen right now? Or are you looking for some reassurance from me?" 

Kal nuzzles against his husband's strong chest. "Assurance. If you can manage some, please." 

"Absolutely. Of course." Zeb places a gentle, chaste kiss upon his forehead. "For me, that's the easy part." The steady, low rumble of the lasat's purr reverberates out through his throat and up through his cest, massaging the tense muscles between them. "You've grown so much, Kal. I'm proud of you. And it wasn't just in one day...it was over a lifetime. I've seen you move from distrusting to open, from fearful to hopeful, from anxious to generous...and any _one_ of those things is more work than I could even imagine! So I hope you give yourself a little credit for all that hard work. And some _slack,_ for when things are not perfect." 

In reply, he laughs softly and kisses Zeb's open palm. "I'm not looking for compliments, love.I'm looking for...I don't know..a _promise_?"

Zeb shifts his hands to cradle his "What kind of promise?" 

"That it all gets better." 

Zeb lifts a questing eyebrow. 

"Me. My feelings. _All This."_ He gestures vaguely to himself, hoping that effort would be sufficient. "I feel like I'm broken, Zeb. I love this...and I love _you..._ but I feel like I'm _wrong_ for not being _perfect_ , when everything _else_ is going perfect. You know?..." 

His husband caresses his face gently. "I _don't_ know." He replies softly. "If I'm honest, I hope that I never _do._ But...I'm here with you, Kal. And I've been _listening_. So I can promise you _this_..."

He shifts their foreheads together once more, so that they are gazing into each other's eyes.

"You're not _wrong_ to _feel_ things." he says tenderly. "You're not _broken_ , or _bad_ , to remember your past. The past...it's _real._ And it's _powerful,_ too. The marks that it left upon you, Kal? Those are real things." Gingerly, he drifts one paw down the layers of scar tissue upon Kal's back. "But that pain...as real and as powerful as it is...that pain is not _you._ It does not _own_ you. It does not _compose_ you. Because you are so, _so_ much more than the worst thing that has ever happened to you. You are Alexsander Kallus-- _Kal_ \--my husband. And your past cannot, and _will_ not, claim your heart forever." 

Kal begins to weep softly. Zeb gives him a squeeze. 

"Listen to me, love. What you've been through? It _matters_. But _you_ matter, too. And so does your life, _today; all_ of it. Every good and wonderful thing. Everything that you don't think you deserve. Yes, you have survived something terrible, and it has made an impact upon you; and; you _survived_ it. You're _here now._ "

Tears are pouring down Kal's face in earnest. Zeb gently catches them in palm of his hand. 

"I, for one, am _so grateful_ that you are still living and breathing and here with me, Kal. I can _promise_ you that-- _'_ _for better or for worse'_ \--I will _always_ be here to share this life with you. So long as you'll have me. Because: my life is _better_ for knowing you. I'm a better _man_ , a better _person,_ for our shared time together. And I wouldn't have gotten that, Kal, if you had left us while back in the Empire's service." 

Kal feels as though his heart is breaking. And yet--as it so often is with Zeb, who holds his fragile pieces with care--it is in a good way. The _best_ way. He clings on to Zeb, knowing that there is a life, a purpose, a _person_ that makes his life worth holding on to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you have the time. <3


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